


floraison.

by orphxus (impxria)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6276838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impxria/pseuds/orphxus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">the first day he meets you, Oikawa learns that you love forget-me-nots.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	floraison.

  
[ { please listen. }](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvORNovUG9Y)  


* * *

**i**. 

The first day he meets you, Oikawa learns that you love forget-me-nots. 

It’s late in the afternoon and practice has finally ended. Despite the heavy rain and dreary sky, his mood fails to dampen. He lets out a satisfied sigh when he leaves the gym, although the relieved countenance changes into one of bemusement when he notices the crouching figure in the courtyard.

He would usually pay no mind to it, but the weather is harsh and you’ve made no attempt to find shelter. He marches right over with his umbrella, finding no hesitation to hover over you and protect you from the rain.

“What are you doing?”

The foreign voice captures attention and you shoot up from your position, nearing bumping into the stranger. You recognize him-- it’s hard to attend this school without knowing who the famous volleyball captain is. Your startled expression almost makes him laugh-- but he looks at you cluelessly, studying your damp hair and drenched clothes.

Only then does the coldness seep in.

“Sorry--” you manage to choke out the apology, “I was looking at the flowers.”

The explanation comes out lamely and heat rushes to your cheeks when you see him process what you’ve said. But he doesn’t scold you or anything-- instead, he laughs. It’s a cheerful, hearty laugh, and for a second, you forget the condition you’re in.

“I’ll walk you home.”

“No, it’s okay. I have my--”

You pause, brows knit together when you recall this morning’s routine. You woke up late and rushed out-- meaning you left the umbrella at your bedside. He realizes your eagerness to deny the gesture dies down and smiles, tilting his head in the direction outside the school gates. 

“Don’t worry.” His voice reflects his mood and lessens the guilt about the inconvenience. “You can tell me more about those flowers.”

That’s how he learns. You don’t say much in the beginning; it’s more of him asking the questions to fill the silence. It’s polite small talk, but for the time being, it makes the cold disappear from your body. 

“You’re planting them?”

“Just one for now-- it hasn’t been long enough for it to start sprouting.”

“Really?” He grins like a little kid. “I want to see it when it grows.”

You promise him that he will.

When you go home, you head straight for your room. There’s a white pot that rests on the windowsill.

The flower has not grown yet.

 **ii**.

Oikawa discovers where to find you. A week later and you’re hunched over the flowers again. 

“Why don’t you take them home?”

And again, you’re startled. You nearly lose your balance when you stand straight, but a hand wraps firmly around your wrist and allows for a safe recovery. 

“You gotta stop doing that, Oikawa.”

He lets go when you thank him.

“Does my face scare you?”

Mock offense.

“Sure does.”

A cute pout that leaves whenever you give a teasing look.

“They’re not mine,” you answer, glancing down at the flowers, “and they’re fine here.”

“I think they’d be happier at home with you.” 

He says it with no embarrassment and that makes it ten times worse. You just stare at him in astonishment before narrowing your eyes and his hands go up in a defensive manner.

“Just saying, just saying!”

The glare has faltered and the volleyball player sits at a nearby bench, patting the spot next to him. Uncertainty comes and you question why he would bother spending so much time with you-- but you have no complaints. It’s just a contemplation that crosses your mind as you sit beside him. You realize that there are no awkward silences even though he’s only an acquaintance. There’s no worry about what you should say next or how to approach him-- it comes easily and the fact that it does brings happiness.

You talk for hours.

The sun begins to set and it’s then that you both understand how long it’s been.

He walks you home again. Another fifteen minutes of peaceful conversation and laughter.

“Has it started growing?”

“A little bit.” You pause in your steps and debate for a moment. “Do you want to see?”

His features light up and he reminds you of the sun on a quiet morning. When he walks into the house, you expect him to bounce off the walls with excitement. But he follows you diligently, lips curled in a serene smile. It’s when he sees the flower pot that intrigue grows; brown eyes look at it as if it's a completely new sight-- and you can see him registering what’s happening.

He looks up at you with childlike fascination.

The flower begins to sprout.

 **iii**.

“I don’t get why you’re buying a bouquet when they’re growing one already.”

It’s the third time Iwaizumi’s pointed it out, but his best friend still has a spring in his step despite the constant complaints.

“Because,” he says in an overly dramatic fashion, leaning towards the other, “these are _already_ grown.”

Iwaizumi’s heard about you a thousand times and it doesn’t take long to understand that Oikawa cares deeply for you. It’s on and on that he rambles, and it does get annoying at times, but a little part of him is happy for the captain. He’s seen you two in your little unique meeting place; all he needs to do is follow the flowers and he’ll find you chattering like there's no tomorrow.

He doesn’t catch himself smiling at the thought, but Oikawa does.

And he realizes how screwed he is when he hears that loud, exaggerated gasp.

“Are you happy for me, Iwa-chan?”

He practically yells in the florist shop and _whoops_ , all eyes are on them.

Iwaizumi almost slams the damn flowers in his face.

**.     .     .**

He’s a little nervous, a little on edge--

“Stop worrying.”

“It’s not that easy!” He retorts with exasperation and Iwaizumi pinches the bridge of his nose in self-restraint. 

Sure, it isn’t that easy. He knows how hard this idiot has fallen, and in all honesty, he’s a little surprised that it took more than a month since the first encounter for those feelings to show up. Because Oikawa has a tendency to jump into relationships sometimes-- but it isn’t that he’s a hopeless romantic or an annoying flirt. He just never chooses the right person.

But this time, Iwaizumi thinks, this time, it’s something special.

He sees that his teammate doesn’t walk with that little bounce anymore and he chuckles.

“I hear you.” 

Oikawa doesn’t even bother to turn around, but imagining the feign hurt expression he holds is too easy. He waves his hand in the air in mock anger as if that’ll dismiss his friend’s amusement. 

Then he hears even more laughter.

**.     .     .**

It’s not exactly a direct confession. Really, he doesn’t know what it is. Knuckles hit the door and he waits with apprehension.

When you open the door, hair disheveled and dirt on your hands, you nearly drop the pot at the sight of the large bouquet.

And then Oikawa pops up from behind it.

“Bet you won’t forget these forget-me-nots!”

He grins like a kid in a candy store and you almost close the door on him.

“Oikawa Tooru, you are something else.” 

Even though you speak with weariness, the smile on your face can’t be ignored and he decides that he wants to be the one who protects it. 

“Thank you.”

And you both just stand there, happy in each other’s presence as if everything in the world was okay.

He notices that the flower begins to bud.

**iv.**

He likes the way your hand feels in his. He likes a lot of things about you. 

You cheer him on at his games; you show up to the volleyball practices whenever you can. You’re always there and you’ve learned that he isn’t just this brilliant captain. He is entirely human regardless of the cheery expressions and the positive attitude.

He carries everything in his heart and keeps a lock on it. Sometimes you find the key, sometimes you don’t. 

Today, he’s the one looking at the flowers. The slouched posture when he stands before them, the solemn look--

“Do you know what they mean?”

Fingers brush through brunet locks and he’s never heard you speak with such compassion. His visage shows some confusion because the name holds enough explanation for itself, but the kind, tender smile you give him makes him forget.

“It means remembrance. It means loyalty.” 

Your forehead rests against his and he squeezes your hand. His eyes never leave you, even when your gaze shifts to the flowers before returning to him.

“This is the way I remember you.”

And when he moves closer, lips barely brushing against yours, you speak.

“I’m proud of you, Tooru.”

This is the first time he kisses you.

And the forget-me-not finally blooms.


End file.
